When I was in the fourth grade – before God was tossed out of the public school system – our class was asked to memorize Psalm 100 as a way for us to celebrate the Thanksgiving holiday. Our teacher, Mrs. Armstrong, was a devoted Christian and a devout member of her church. I think she was a congregant at the large Baptist church in my hometown. She was adamant that God was the “reason for the season” of Thanksgiving. Unlike today, there was no protest from the administration, the school board, atheistic parents or her students who respected her and her position. She said Psalm 100 was the best way for all of us young people to understand what being thankful really meant. Also, she threw out an incentive of additional time at recess each day if we complied with her request.
In early November, at the beginning of each day – following the pledge of allegiance and school announcements – we began our recitation exercise. With her infamous “Lanier Funeral Home” yardstick in hand she boldly delivered the first stanza followed by the request to replicate her words. The remaining stanzas followed suit. Without hesitation – and the fear of a spanking in the supply closet with that yardstick – we followed like a well-trained army. The girls usually had the words down a lot faster than us boys. They always wanted to have a “leg up” on their male counterparts!
Each day I attempted to learn my lines and proudly said them in unison with the rest of my classmates. One week before Thanksgiving Mrs. Armstrong announced each student would stand before the class and provide a perfect reproduction of the scripture. What?!!! Get up before the class – she had to be kidding! Fear began to set in. I was not feeling confident that I could knock this out without any problem. I began to really worry!
Well, the weeks of practice had come to an end and the time to make a fool of myself had arrived. On the Wednesday before Thanksgiving we took the first hour of class to say the One-Hundredth Psalm back to Mrs. A. Several of my friends got to go first and most did a good job in their recitations. A couple of the girls actually stumbled and were ordered to “try it again.” Then my time arrived. “John, your next!” she announced. Sweat beaded up on my neck and butterflies were swarming in my stomach. I slowly made my way from my desk to the front of the class. I was shaking like a leaf. It was a “do or die” moment in my young life. I closed my eyes, and, gave it my best:
Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth!
Serve the Lord with gladness!
Come into his presence with singing!Know that the Lord, he is God!
It is he who made us, and we are his;
we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.Enter his gates with thanksgiving,
and his courts with praise!
Give thanks to him; bless his name!For the Lord is good;
his steadfast love endures forever,
and his faithfulness to all generations.
– Psalm 100
I did it! I got through it! The Lord is good! A smile of approval came from the teacher I admired and loved. She said “great job!” Then, it was on to the next student to see how well they could do with the verses. For me, I was a proud fourth grader. A Thanksgiving memory was created that particular Thanksgiving season that has endured for all of these years. And, for that – I am very thankful.
This year as you gather your families for the Thanksgiving holiday take a few minutes to read this Psalm and commit it to memory. You might even make a memory that will last for many Thanksgivings to come.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Image: Simon Howden / FreeDigitalPhotos.net
